Stumbling In
by Bohemian Storm
Summary: *Finished!* A tragedy shatters Hermione's perfect world, but it brings out revelations as her true friends reveal who they are. Reviews are greatly appreciated.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own the following characters. They belong to the amazingly talented JK Rowling.  
Notes at end.  
  
Stumbling In  
  
The melting snow of late March crunched under Hermione Granger's shoes as she made her way across the school grounds. She swung her book bag carelessly because for the moment, a rare and hidden moment, she didn't care if her books fell in the snow. If her entire bag had ripped free of her hand and gone toppling into a wet pile of dirt and snow, she would have laughed and picked them up. It was one of those days that Hermione had, more often now in her seventh year than ever before, when she would realize how right everything was in the world.   
  
She had two parents who loved her, friends that would always be by her side, and she no longer lived in fear of a horrible Dark Lord. Two years earlier Voldemort had been defeated, he had been betrayed by the very Death Eaters that he so relied on and Lucius Malfoy had cast the final curse that had ended Voldemort's reign. Lucius was now serving a three year sentence in Azkaban, though it was no longer as horrible as it had once been. The Dementors no longer held power over the prisoners, they were kept now by simple charms that no wizard could break without his wand.   
  
Hermione hummed happily, trudging toward the school through the dreary, grey snow, happy to be finished classes for the day. Ron and Harry had gone over to the Quidditch pitch saying they'd meet up with her before dinner and she smiled fondly as she thought of her friends. Who needed a boyfriend when she had friends like them? She was Head Girl, her marks were the top of her class and in a few, short months she'd be graduating from Hogwarts and moving on to the entire world beyond.  
  
Hermione Granger was truly happy.  
  
She practically skipped up the front steps and nearly slammed head on into Professor Severus Snape, her potions teacher. She grinned at him, realizing even as she did it that he would take the gesture as something offensive and do something like give her detention.   
  
Snape regarded her darkly for a moment, though his face looked softer than it normally did and there was something behind his black eyes that looked as if he were pitying her.  
  
"Dumbledore needs to speak with you," he said, his usually cold voice smooth and soft. "He wants you in his office immediately."  
  
Hermione nodded and bounced past Snape, turning to the right once she was inside and climbed the stairs that led to Dumbledore's office. It wasn't unusual for her to be called to Dumbledore's chambers, she was Head Girl, after all, and she had responsibilities that other students didn't. She murmured the password at the door and entered, fully expecting to see Eric DeVries, the Head Boy. She frowned briefly when she found that he wasn't there, but didn't let it spoil her mood and went to sit in front of Dumbledore's desk.  
  
The old wizard was staring down at her gravely, his glasses tossed to the side and his fingers steepled under his chin. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere else than in his chair at that very moment and the atmosphere of the room suddenly began to weight down on Hermione. As if to support her conviction that something was suddenly and very horribly wrong, Fawkes, Dumbledore's pet Phoenix, flew over and landed on Hermione's lap. He stared up at her sadly and let out a quavering note that seemed to solidify in the air.  
  
Hermione turned her brown eyes to Dumbledore. "Sir?" she asked. "What's wrong? What's happened?"  
  
The wizard sighed. "I'm terribly sorry to have to deliver this news to you, Hermione," Dumbledore began. "There's been an accident."  
  
Hermione's breath caught in her throat and her trembling hand rested on the back of the beautiful bird. "W-what do you mean . . . an accident?"  
  
Dumbledore's eyes closed and he heaved another sigh. Fawkes imitated this sound and rubbed against Hermione's hand. She began to pet him absentmindedly, all the while staring at Dumbledore.  
  
"Please sir," she said suddenly, despising the begging quality to her voice. "Tell me what happened."  
  
"Your parents, Hermione," Dumbledore said. "They were in a car accident."  
  
Her teeth clenched unconsciously and the tendons in her neck tightened. "Are they all right?" she asked, her voice sounding fake and hollow in the room.  
  
Dumbledore rubbed his temples, unable to find the words to tell the girl.  
  
"They died," a gentle voice said from behind her.   
  
Hermione turned to see Snape stepping forward, offering a hand to her. She stared at it, uncertain of what he wanted her to do. She had been unaware that he had followed her to Dumbledore's office and now . . . now he was telling her something that she didn't want to believe.  
  
The offered hand fell to her shoulder and he squeezed it gently. "We're very sorry, Miss Granger, but your parents have died."  
  
Hermione opened her mouth as if to say something, then licked her lips and closed it again. She stared for a moment at the hand on her shoulder, then the bird in her lap and once more at Snape's hand. Her mind whirled, her stomach raged, threatening to bring up her lunch and her joints and muscles all screaming at her to move.  
  
Instead, she dropped her face to the Phoenix's beautiful plumage and began to cry.  
  
* * * *  
End Chapter One  
  
Notes: Yes, I know how many fics have Hermione's parents dying, but this one is different. I promise. And no, this is not a Hermione/Snape romance. He's just ... there because what else would I do with him? He has to be in there somewhere. He's my beloved Potions Master :D 


	2. Chapter Two

* * * *  
  
Professor Severus Snape stood in the dank dungeon halls and watched as his best, his brightest student walked sullenly away. Her shoulders were slumped and her spine curved under the weight of her book bag and her news she'd heard only an hour earlier. Her posture had changed so much from the bouncing, carefree girl he'd caught coming into the school earlier that day. He didn't have to see her face to know that it was streaked with tears and that more would come as soon as she saw her friends. He didn't need to be close enough to hear her to know that her lungs were working overtime, struggling to keep back the strangled sobs that somehow needed to be released.  
  
He wished he could have done something more for her, but her request to come with him to the dungeons had been strange enough. She had followed him around for the better part of an hour, not saying anything, not making her usual smart-mouthed remarks about the meticulous way in which he worked. She had just . . . watched. Her eyes had remained wet and shimmering and Snape would catch the occasional tear dribbling down her cheek, but she refused to cry in front of him. She held her chin high and watched him work.  
  
As he thought about it now, her need to be by his side didn't seem all that strange. Dumbledore wasn't able to offer comfort, not when he himself was so distraught at having to tell a student of her dead parents. Harry and Ron would have been there for her, their shoulders free for her to cry on, but she was too scared to tell them yet. She had needed time to digest the information, needed time to decide how she felt. When she was ready to face them, she had left, collecting her bag without a word and pulling open the heavy door.  
  
Snape had glanced up with the noise, the hand tipping dragon's blood into a potion never wavering.  
  
"Thank you," she said in a voice he had never heard before. She was broken, a shell of what she had once been.  
  
He nodded curtly, then pretended to return to his work. When he was certain that she would be far enough away that she wouldn't hear him, Snape had gone to the door and had stared after her, hating that she had been affected in such a way.   
  
The next few months were important to any graduating student, but they were important to Hermione more than others. She was Head Girl, she had the top marks in the school, great things were expected of her. Her mind was her greatest asset, but now it was also her greatest burden. She would be expected to perform perfectly on exams, but her grief would outweigh her desire to study . . . Snape was sure that the loss of her parents would be the one thing that would finally bring her to a halt.   
  
Some people thought that there was nothing in the world that could slow that girl down, nothing that could make her relax, even for a little while, but Snape knew otherwise. He would never admit it outside his own head, but he knew Hermione Granger very well. She was the best student he'd ever had and if he had ever shown favouritism to a Gryffindor, it would have been her.  
  
His dark eyes focused on her retreating form, waiting until she disappeared around the corner of the hall and left his line of vision. Her shoes made loud slapping noises against the floor and he waited until the sound of her footsteps had disappeared as well before returning to his classroom.   
  
Gathering up what remained of his potions, Snape began to wipe off the tables and returned the bottles to their cabinets, closing and locking them when he was finished. He had taken to locking his cabinets after someone had stolen some ingredients to make a Polyjuice Potion. Snape couldn't suppress the smile that quickly stole across his lips, it came and went so quickly that he barely realized it had been there at all. He had a few ideas about the person who had stolen those things from him, but never enough proof to convince him.  
  
As fast as his fond memories came, they left and he was once again reminded of the fact that Hermione's parents were now dead. It was unfair that she would have to live alone, it was unfair that she would have to suffer through pain like she had never experienced before and Snape wished, with everything he had, that there was some way to fix it. He wished there was some way to bring them back.  
  
He shook his head sadly. Nothing could bring back Hermione's parents, not even the blackest of magics could make them live again.  
  
* * * *  
  
End Chapter Two  
  
Notes: As you can see from this chapter, I hate the idea that Hermione's parents weren't loving. It can work well in fics, but I don't think it's right. How can a girl that intelligent and that bright be without love? 


	3. Chapter Three

* * * *  
  
Hermione entered the Gryffindor common room as quietly as she possibly could. It wasn't that she didn't want to see her friends -- she had been looking forward to seeing them all night -- it was that she didn't want to draw attention to herself, she didn't want to deal with more people that night than she absolutely had to. She knew Dumbledore wouldn't tell the others the news, that she would have to tell them herself, but she still felt as if they'd know. Everyone would know that her parents had died in a horrible, tragic car accident.  
  
She glanced over to the couches that circled the fireplace in their common room to find Harry and Ron deep in conversation about . . . something, most likely Quidditch or another girl they'd recently discovered was attractive. More than anything, Hermione wanted to be able to go over to them and laugh. She wanted to honestly find their jokes funny, she wanted to forget everything that had been told to her in the last few hours and mostly she just wanted to feel like the girl she had been earlier.  
  
Sullenly, she made her way over to her friends and dropped her book bag on the table in front of Harry. He jumped at the sound and glanced up, the fire glinting off his glasses. Hermione stared at him and immediately tears welled up in her eyes. The expectant grin that had been on Harry's face slid off as she sunk to the couch between them and put her face in her hands.   
"Hermione?" he asked gently, touching her shoulder. "What's wrong?  
  
She shook her head, unable to speak for the moment and sobbed into her hands. Her cries were soundless, barely gasps of air that escaped her lips and the moment Ron's hand fell onto her other shoulder she felt her heart begin to tear. Here she had two friends, people who cared about her so deeply and she couldn't even tell them what had happened.  
  
"Hermione?" Ron asked.  
  
"Leave her," Harry commanded softly. "Let her . . . let her talk when she's ready."  
  
"My parents," she burst out, her voice wavering. "Dumbledore and Snape told me that my parents were . . . in an accident. A car accident."  
  
"Are they okay?" Ron asked.  
  
She shook her head from where it was still hidden in her hands. "No, they're not okay. They died Ron . . . my parents are dead."  
  
Silence fell over the common room and Hermione realized then that she had spoken the last sentence more loudly than she'd intended. Nervously, she drew her hands back into her lap and raised her eyes, peeking up from behind curtains of her wavy hair. She found faces staring at her from everywhere in the room, silent, curious faces.   
  
Harry gestured to them from beside her and the room was sent into a flurry of movement and whispers as the other students went back to whatever it was they'd been doing before Hermione's outburst.  
  
"When did it happen?" Ron asked softly.   
  
"Today," she whispered. "This morning. They were going to work and a truck driver went through a red light."  
  
Harry closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch, his hand slipping off her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. Is there . . . Merlin's Beard, I mean, can we do anything?"  
  
Hermione's eyes went to his face. He was still leaning back against the couch, his eyes squeezed shut.  
  
"Can you bring them back?" she asked softly.   
  
Harry's eyes flew open and he stared at her. "Can I what?"  
  
"Bring them back," she repeated, then shook her head, exasperated with herself and her friends. "It was a stupid question Harry. You can't do anything for me unless you can bring them back."  
  
"I-I'm sorry," he said.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Don't worry about it. Thanks for offering." She stood slowly and looked at her friends. "I think I'm just going to go to bed, okay? I know you're here for me and you're just trying to help but I need to be alone right now."  
  
Ron nodded. "Whatever you need."  
  
They both watched as Hermione made her way up to the seventh year girls' dormitory, then turned to stare at each other. Both were speechless and hurting deeply, unable to do anything for their best friend as she grieved. For seven years they'd known Hermione to be in control, to be cool and calm in situations of extreme danger and now the helpless look on her face was something neither boy had ever seen before.  
  
"I'll be back in a few minutes," Harry said suddenly, standing up from the couch.  
  
"Where're you going?" Ron asked.  
  
"I'll tell you when I get back," Harry said, then turned and left the common room.  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry's shoes echoed loudly as he walked quickly down the dungeon hall. Random, seemingly useless thoughts passed through his mind as he walked, like how no one would ever be able to sneak up on Snape in the dungeons unless they had some kind of silencing charm on their shoes. He wondered, but only for a moment, if he was being stupid in going to the professor that most despised him. Would Snape be able to get past his loathing for Harry in order to help Hermione? It didn't take a scholar to recognize that Snape admired Hermione's intellect and Harry hoped that knowledge would help him in the long run.  
  
"Potter," the icy voice split the air between them and Harry glanced up. He hadn't heard Snape glide into the hallway and his presence startled him.  
  
"Hello, sir," Harry mumbled.  
  
"Curfew is in less than fifteen minutes," Snape pointed out. "I certainly hope you plan on being back in your common room by that time."  
  
Harry's eyes shifted to a point behind Snape and the professor turned to see what the boy could possibly be looking at. There was nothing in the hall behind him and he turned back to Harry, a sneer marring his face. The tears on the cheeks of the boy startled him so much that he took a step backward, his foot coming down silently on the stone floor.  
  
They stood in the hall, sedately staring at one another, waiting for the other to say the first word. Numerous times Snape opened his mouth to speak, but once the words ran quickly through his brain he realized how stupid they sounded. He wasn't one to comfort students, they certainly had never come to him before and for all the world, he wished that the one before him hadn't decided to start a new trend.  
  
"Is there a way?" Harry asked finally, wiping at his face. "You know . . . to bring them back?"  
  
Snape's brow creased in confusion. "Who?"  
  
"Her parents."  
  
Understanding dawned on Snape as he realized how lost Harry was. Hermione had told them about her parents and now Harry was wandering the school, alone and unsure of what to do, wondering if he could find any way to consol his friend's aching soul. Apparently, he thought that bringing them back would make everything better.  
  
"No, Potter," Snape said carefully, his voice clipped. "There is no way to bring her parents back."  
  
"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "I mean, have you checked? Couldn't there be some spell, some charm that you haven't heard of?"  
  
"No," Snape said, his voice softening slightly. "Even the black arts do not delve into such things. It's a dangerous idea."  
  
Harry's jaw tightened. "There has to be something I can do."  
  
"Be her friend," Snape replied.  
  
"There has to be something more!" Harry screamed suddenly, his anger taking them both off guard. His fists clenched and unclenched slowly as he forced himself to calm down. He drew deep breaths into his lungs and released them, his chest heaving as he did so. "There has to be something," he whispered finally, his voice giving away just how helpless he felt.   
  
"Go to bed, Potter," Snape said, waving his hand. "I can't help you. There's nothing more for you to do. I know you feel helpless, but imagine, for just a second, how Hermione must feel." He shook his head. "Just go to bed."  
  
The Potions Master disappeared into his own chambers a moment later and Harry was left alone in the hall, shaking with anger and disappointment. He thought of all people in the school, Snape would have been able to help him. He needed to find something, anything that would make Hermione feel better and something that would bring her parents back would be the perfect thing.   
  
"He has to know of something," Harry whispered fiercely.  
  
"He doesn't," Draco said from behind him, "but I do."  
  
Harry whirled around, his eyes narrowed. "What do you want?" he asked, suddenly very conscious of how red his eyes were.  
  
"My father has a library . . . a pretty extensive library on the black arts."  
  
Harry stared at him blankly. "So?"  
  
Draco sighed and held out a thick book in one hand. It was bound in black leather, the writing on the front glimmered in soft silvers under the layers of dust that still covered it. The leather was cracked and stained and as Harry flipped through it, he noticed how yellowed with age the pages had become.  
  
"What is this?" he asked, pausing on a page that depicted a disgustingly detailed animal sacrifice.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "What do you think it is, Potter? It's a book on black magic and if you tell anyone where you got it from I'll have my father cover everything up."  
  
"Why should I trust you?" Harry asked.  
  
Draco shrugged. "Fine then, don't bother. I'll take the book back and we'll pretend nothing even happened." He reached for the black book, but Harry clutched it instinctively and pulled away. Draco smirked as Harry sighed miserably, hating that he was using something a Malfoy had given him.  
  
"Do you want it or not?" Draco asked.  
  
Harry stared at the book for a long moment, just stared at the cover and tried to take in exactly what it was he was doing. His hands shook in nervous excitement as he began to think about everything he could do with the book, everything he would know. With a sudden rush of determination and defiance, Harry nodded.  
  
"I'll use it," he said. "I'll use it."  
  
Draco grinned, one corner of his mouth turning up into a cocky smirk. "I thought you might. But don't tell anyone where you got it from."  
  
Harry nodded, then stared at the book again. "How'd you know?" he asked.  
  
"How'd I know what?" Draco asked, looking completely unconcerned with the situation.  
  
"About Hermione's parents."  
  
Draco shrugged. "Gossip. How else?"  
  
"How'd you get the book so fast?"  
  
Draco bristled and he glared at Harry. "What the hell does it matter? I have the book, I'm giving it to you, why don't you just take it?" His blue eyes turned to ice as he continued to glare at Harry.  
  
"Just asking," Harry mumbled, then brushed past Draco with the book still in his hands. His footsteps echoed loudly on the stone floor as he walked quickly toward the Gryffindor common room. He didn't want to be caught out of his house after curfew, especially not with the book he now held.  
  
Another glance at it proved Harry's thoughts; there was the twisting outline of a serpent etched into the soft leather. It's long body weaved through the letters, the Latin words that Harry couldn't understand and it's ugly head was nestled neatly by the upper corner. As he traced the pattern of the snake through the dust, Harry felt an unexplainable shiver run through him. His fingers felt cold and his mouth turned up into a dangerous smile. The gesture was unconscious and he didn't realize that his mouth held that smile all the way back to the dorm.  
  
* * * * 


	4. Chapter Four

* * * *  
  
Two mornings later, Harry sat alone in the abandoned girls' bathroom he and the others had come to use as their hideout when they were doing something they knew they shouldn't be. Moaning Myrtle took it upon herself to create some frustration for the group on occasion, but for the most part she left them alone. There was no danger of being interrupted by Ron or Hermione as neither was even awake that early. The sun hadn't even begun to peek over the horizon and Harry felt safe in the bathroom with the black book in his lap. It radiated heat, warming his legs under the leather and it was that sensation that caused Harry to hesitate before opening it.  
  
His fingers traced the Latin words on the cover, the words that would have warned him not to open the book if Harry had been able to read Latin. There was no table of contents of index for him to consult, so page by page Harry began to read the thick book. The corners of more than a few pages crumbled between his fingers as he turned them, but he ignored the dust on his hands as his eyes scanned each page for some clue as to how he could bring back Hermione's parents.   
  
Page after page, curse after curse there was nothing. His eyes fell upon pictures of demons that he had never heard of, pictures his eyes could have done without seeing and the after effects of curses that he could have been happy not knowing. Numerous times Harry could feel the contents of his stomach churning and the hot bile burning at the back of his throat, but he forced it down and pretended not to know it was there.   
  
A particularly gruesome human sacrifice caused Harry's stomach to revolt and he barely made it to the toilet before bringing up water and stomach acid. His shoulders shook with a while afterward as his stomach and throat clenched with dry heaves. His vision swam behind his glasses as he realized, for the first time, exactly what it was he was doing. The picture of the woman sprawled across a darkened alter with hooded figures around her burned into his mind. The hooded man with a dagger raised in both hands, the thought of what he would do with the knife, what horrible wounds he would make on that woman stuck with Harry.  
  
"It's for Hermione," he whispered fiercely, wiping his mouth and standing on shaky legs.  
  
He left the stall and looked to where he had dropped the book. It seemed cleaner than when he'd left it, less aged than the crumbling book he'd been looking at only moments ago. The page edges now shone with silver leafing and Harry frowned before walking over to it and staring down. The silver serpent twitched, then it's tongue slid between it's fangs as a hiss filled the room. It spoke in it's native tongue, whispering words into the room, filling the tiny space with a rasping hiss that bounced off the walls and bombarded Harry from all angles. His hands immediately went to his ears, trying to shut out the words that only he could hear under the dry hiss.  
  
"Acerbus, pain, fear. Noceo illis. It wants you to vitualamen. Your life is in my satago. Tui anima."  
  
As the hissing stopped and the snake returned to nothing more than decorative picture, Harry remembered Mr Weasley's words: "Don't trust anything that thinks for itself if you can't see where it keep it's brain."  
  
Harry's green eyes narrowed and he snatched the book up off the floor. "For Hermione," he whispered vehemently, then opened the book and resumed his search.  
  
* * * *  
  
A pair of cold, blue eyes watched as Harry left the unused bathroom with the black book clenched tightly in his hands, his fingers bending into horrible claws over the leather binding. He glanced down the hall and turned in the direction of the Gryffindor common room, hiding the book beneath his robes, but never relenting his steel grip on it.  
  
Draco smiled as he stepped out of the shadows and watched Harry walk away. It was perfect, everything was perfect. His father would never have let him take the book, but his father was in Azkaban and there was nothing he could do about it.  
  
"Stupid man," Draco growled under his breath. "Who turns against Voldemort? Who turns against the most powerful wizard ever?" He paused for a long moment, pale hands twitching at his sides. "Not me," he said finally. "I don't turn away. I'll never turn away. And in turn, they will never turn away from me."  
  
Draco Malfoy grinned. "I'll finally get rid of The Boy Who Lived."  
  
* * * *  
  
Notes: My Latin is probably off, but this is what the snake says to Harry: "Dark, pain, fear. Hurt her. It wants you to sacrifice. Your life is in my hands. Your life." 


	5. Chapter Five

* * * *  
  
As Hermione drew deeper into her shell, Ron found himself spending more and more time with her, trying to draw her back out. She was hurting, it was obvious enough that he could see it every time she looked at him, but she refused to acknowledge her pain.   
Instead, she went about her life like nothing had happened, giving her friends only one word answers when they asked how she was. Her schoolwork became her escape and it took Ron weeks to notice that Harry had withdrawn from them both.   
  
"I wonder where he goes," he mused aloud one night in the common room as he watched Harry disappear through the portrait hole with his invisibility cloak under his arm.  
  
Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnigan exchanged a quick glance that Ron just barely caught. He frowned and stared at his two friends.  
  
"What?"  
  
Neville shook his head, but Seamus sighed.   
  
"Come on, Neville," he said. "Ron deserves to know. He's Harry's best friend."  
  
"Know what?" Ron asked.  
  
Seamus turned to him, ignoring the look on Neville's face. "There's rumours going 'round the school, Ron. Rumours that Harry's been meeting Draco for something."  
  
Ron's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by 'something'?"  
  
Neville sighed. "We think Draco's getting him into the dark arts."  
  
Ron nearly laughed. "Are you guys serious? Come on, you know Harry almost as well as I do. He'd never do something like that." When neither of his friends responded, Ron sighed in exasperation and shook his head. "I can't believe you two would think he'd give up everything he's worked for."  
  
Neville sighed. "Normally we wouldn't think anything like that, Ron . . . but you don't think he'd give it up?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "Never," he said vehemently.  
  
Seamus met his eye. "Not even for his best friends?"  
  
"Are you guys saying that . . ." Ron trailed off. "Oh . . . Hermione's parents."  
  
Neville nodded. "That's what we thought. Dean tried to talk to him a few days ago but he said Harry nearly bit his head off."  
  
Ron frowned and shook his head. "But Harry's not like that . . . he's not stupid like that. He wouldn't do something like that, even for Hermione."  
  
Neville shrugged. "I hope you're right, Ron. I really do."  
  
  
* * * *  
  
  
Harry stepped into the clearing near the school, silver moonlight pooling across the ground and filtering through the fir trees that surrounded him. Draco was supposed to meet him there with another book, another step in his search to find a way to bring back Hermione's parents. He'd read three books from cover to cover in the past three weeks and he'd found nothing, but he wasn't about to give up now, not after Draco had promised him that he'd find the right book soon enough.  
  
"Here," Draco said suddenly, stepping into the clearing. "It's thinner than the others but I think this is the one."  
  
Harry reached out, his hand closing over the small book. It burned suddenly and a light flared from inside the pages, but Harry kept his hand tight on the book and smiled. It felt alive in his palm, a warm, pulsing feeling that spoke to him.   
  
"This is the one," he said in a low voice.  
  
Draco smiled. "You sound very certain."  
  
Harry met his gaze. "I am very certain. There's something about it that I can feel. Something inside that . . . tells me what I'll find."  
  
"Good," Draco said. "You're becoming part of the magic."  
  
Harry's green eyes suddenly flashed with fear. "I don't want to become part of the magic. I just want to find a spell and bring back her parents.  
  
Draco put his cool hand on Harry's forearm. "Calm down. There's nothing to worry about. Becoming part of the magic will help you . . . it'll tell you what you need to do. Trust me, Harry, this is the right thing."  
  
Slowly, the fear that had risen in Harry began to back down. His heart beat slowed and his breathing returned to normal. He held the book as tightly as ever, then spread the invisibility cloak over his shoulders and disappeared from Draco's sight. The Slytherin could hear the leaves crunching under Harry's feet as he walked away, but he couldn't see where he had gone.  
  
Harry walked slowly, trying not to draw attention to himself as he followed the halls back to the Gryffindor common room. The last thing he needed was to be found by a professor with the warm and trembling book clenched tightly in his hands. It felt like it was an extension of his body, the leather melted onto his fingers and into his pores, reaching deep inside of him. Harry drew in a deep breath as he walked, relishing the warmth that the book spread throughout his body. Trendils of soothing fire swept through his limbs, relaxing his tensed and aching muscles.   
  
As he neared the Gryffindor room, Harry let the cloak slip off, covering only the hand that carried the book. A moment later he was glad he had kept the book hidden as Ron stepped out of the portrait hole.  
  
"Hey," Ron said, smiling tentatively.  
  
Harry tried to smile back, but found his face refused to cooperate. Instead, his relaxed muscles tensed immediately and his fingers dug into the soft leather of the book cover.  
  
*He wants to take it away from you,* a voice whispered in his head. *He wants to find the way to bring back her parents. He wants to be the hero.*  
  
"What?" Harry snarled.  
  
Ron took a step back and frowned. "I just said hey."  
  
"I'm tired," Harry said. "I'm going to sleep."  
  
"Where have you been?" Ron asked, stepping between Harry and the portrait hole.  
  
"None of your business."  
  
Ron shook his head. "It is my business."  
  
Harry cocked his head. "Since when is my life your business?"  
  
"Since I'm your best friend," Ron said, completely bewildered. "Harry, what the hell is wrong with you?"  
  
"Get out of my way," Harry said, his voice low. "Get out of my way and leave me alone." He stepped forward and pushed past Ron with a strength his friend didn't know he had. "Leave us both alone. And don't even think about it . . ." he trailed off and turned to glare at Ron. "Don't even think about trying to be the hero."  
  
Ron stared at Harry, completely lost with the turn the conversation had taken. "I-I don't understand."  
  
Harry glared down at him for a moment longer, then muttered the Gryffindor password and disappeared into the common room. Ron was left standing alone in the hall, his hands spread in his confusion and his brow furrowed in a look of bewilderment.  
  
"Maybe Neville and Seamus were right," he murmured finally. "Whatever you're into, it can't be good."  
  
  
* * * * 


	6. Chapter Six

* * * *  
  
Hermione's glazed eyes never left the Potions Master as he paced the room during class. Everywhere he went, her eyes followed him, emotionless and empty, staring through him but always knowing where he was. He tried not to let her gaze bother him, but the unwavering stare eventually ran down even his defences and his dark eyes turned to her sharply.  
  
"Do you have a question, Miss Granger?" he asked.  
  
She shook her head slowly and carefully, her hair falling in a thick curtain around her face. "No, Professor," she whispered.  
  
Snape stared at her, unsatisfied with her answer. He didn't want to be the one teacher in all the school that the girl would turn to, he didn't want to be the one to comfort her. The thought of having to create an atmosphere of solace for the girl made his mind race and uncertainty was implanted in his heart.   
  
"Please return to your potion then," he said, sharp words and instructions easier for him to articulate than feelings of pity or remorse. Snape's black eyes left Hermione and scanned the classroom quickly. Draco Malfoy's head was bent over his potions, working carefully and diligently on it . . . even the Slytherins were avoiding his gaze and he wondered, for just a moment, if he was too hard on the child who had just lost both of her parents.  
  
With a barely concealed sigh, Snape turned away from Hermione's desk and back toward his own. He had only taken two steps down the aisle when the strange sensation of being watched pricked at the back of his neck. His years as a Death Eater had taught Snape to trust his instincts and he knew that somewhere in the class a student was staring at him with more hatred than he'd ever felt in his entire life.  
  
Slowly, Snape's eyes swept over the class again. All of the students looked the same as they had only moments ago, their heads bent, their eyes carefully scanning the textbook that was open before them. He frowned and turned completely, looking back to where Hermione and her friends sat. Between the girl and the red haired boy, Harry Potter sat, his hands folded carefully on his desk and his book sitting beside him. The textbook hadn't been opened and his potion had yet to be brewed.  
  
"Are you deaf or just dumb, Mr Potter?" Snape asked coldly. "You should be half way through your potion at this time."  
  
Harry stared at the Potions Master, his green eyes narrowing slightly at his words. Harry's folded hands tensed slightly and Snape could sense a change in the energy of the room, a thickening of the air around him. He frowned, the tiny hairs on his arms rising as a sweat broke out on his forehead. Something was wrong with Harry, something was different and very, very wrong.  
  
"I want to see you after class, Potter," Snape said. "We need to speak."  
  
The corners of Harry's mouth twitched slightly and he inclined his head. "Of course, Professor."  
  
Their eyes remained locked for a moment longer, but Snape finally turned away, fearing his students would pick up on the energy transfer between the two of them. He ignored the feeling of being watched and returned to the class, chastising students when necessary and trying desperately not to look as if he was watching the clock.  
  
  
* * * *  
  
  
As the rest of the students gathered their things to leave, Harry remained sitting at his desk, waiting for the room to empty so he could speak with Snape. Hermione studied him for a moment, then sighed unhappily.  
  
"Don't get into any more trouble, Harry," she said gently. "You know what Snape will do to you."  
  
Harry shrugged and glanced at his friend. "Don't worry about me, okay? You just take it easy and relax. Don't work yourself so hard."  
  
Hermione frowned. "I need to study for exams. I know . . ." she trailed off and struggled to find the words. "I know there are other things I should be thinking about right now, but I need this. I need something to take my mind off what's happened to my parents. Don't think I'm some cold hearted girl because of this."  
  
Harry's hand fell on Hermione's wrist. "I'd never think that."  
  
She smiled slightly. "Thanks, Harry."  
  
He nodded, then folded his hands once more and waited until the room was empty. Professor Snape remained at his desk for a few minutes longer, marking something on a scroll before rolling it up and carefully tucking it in his desk. He folded his hands in a similar way to Harry's and stared at his student, studying him carefully.  
  
"What happened, Potter?" Snape asked finally.  
  
"I don't know what you mean, Professor," Harry answered.  
  
"Don't play stupid, boy," Snape said, his voice low. "You came to me three weeks ago for black magic and I refused to give it to you. You obviously found it somewhere and I want to know where."  
  
Harry shrugged. "I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
Snape stood, trying to control his anger. The stupid child obviously had no idea what the dark arts could do to him, what kinds of black magic he could release in his search to help his friend. He already seemed affected by it, something in his smile had changed, something behind his eyes was no longer the innocent gaze Snape had become so used to loathing.  
  
"Potter," he said warningly, "I didn't keep you here to play games with you. I want to know who you talked to and where you got this magic." He stalked down the aisle until he was at Harry's desk. "I want to know."  
  
Harry grinned. "I'm sure you do, Professor Snape. But how are you so certain that I know anything at all?"  
  
"You're different," Snape said.  
  
Harry's grin widened. "I certainly am."  
  
"Tell me now, or I'm going straight to Dumbledore," Snape hissed. "Don't think I'm above going to my superior . . . you're a stupid child and you have no idea what you're getting yourself into."  
  
"Sense it, can you?" Harry asked, standing as well. He was nearly Snape's height and their eyes met, a fierce and angry fire burning in the depths of Harry's green ones. "Is that how you know, Severus? Can you sense it in me?"  
  
"Do not call me Severus."  
  
Harry cocked his head. "And why shouldn't I? You're no more powerful than I am. What do I have to be afraid of you?"  
  
Snape's nostrils flared angrily and he took a step closer, the energy crackling between their bodies. He was furious with the boy, disgusted that he had allowed himself to become involved so deeply in the dark arts.  
  
"I will find out," Snape said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I promise you, Potter, I will find out who did this to you."  
  
Harry raised one of his eyebrows and smiled again. "When you find them, Severus, tell them I said thanks." He stared at his professor for another moment, then turned on his heel and left the classroom and the angry Potions Master behind.  
  
  
* * * * 


	7. Chapter Seven

* * * *  
  
The bathroom was his sanctuary, the darkened room was safe and quiet, lit only by a few sputtering candles that he had brought a few nights before. There was barely enough light to read by, but Harry could see the book well enough as his eyes adjusted to the candle light. The candles cast an eerie glow in the room, shadows were deepened by their constant movement and they seemed alive. Deep, liquid pools of shadow seemed to slide across the floor to where Harry sat, licking at his fingers with sharp tongues.  
  
Harry's hands flicked quickly through the book, the pages sharp and crisp against his fingers. The pictures didn't haunt him anymore, the visions of sacrifices and demons were no longer of any interest to him. He had a specific mission, a certain page he had to find and he would have to find it soon. His resources were running low, Draco had brought almost every book on the extreme side of the dark arts that he knew his father had in their library and still Harry had nothing.   
  
"I need it," he murmured in a low voice. His throat rasped more with every word he spoke and with everyone except Hermione, his words had taken on a threatening tone. She was the only person who didn't notice a change in him at all.  
  
"It's for her," he hissed at the shadows, glaring at them, knowing they were trying to creep up on him and steal his book. "Stay away, I command you now. You'd better stay away." His green eyes darted nervously around the room for a moment longer before he returned to the book, flipping deftly through the pages.  
  
"Has to be in here," he rasped. "It has to be. What will I do if it's not? It must be, has to be. No where else to look, I'm running out of time. I have to fix it, have to change it. Have to make the past right again. I-" he stopped abruptly, realizing that he had been rambling without even being conscious of his reasons.   
  
He flipped another page and his hands stopped on their own, trembling against the stark white pages of the book. A small paragraph topped the page followed by four simple lines. Harry smiled. They weren't even in Latin, they were in simple, plain English.  
  
He read over the instructions quickly, then glanced out the window at the moon outside. It hung low in the sky, slightly orange and nearly full. He had two days at the most to collect what he needed, to collect his courage and perform the ceremony that would bring back Hermione's parents.  
  
His eyes flickered back to the page and another smile crossed his face.   
  
*I'll kill two birds with one stone.*  
  
The thought passed over his mind, unbidden and misunderstood. How would Harry ever know that Draco's deepest thoughts were mingling with his own? How could he ever guess the dark magic was taking pieces of both of them and making them one with the magic?  
  
"Ceremonial dagger," Harry murmured. "Easy enough." His eyes went back to the window and he smiled at the moon. "Two nights . . . not very long and the two of us will be meeting again. Very soon . . . very soon," he breathed.  
  
Harry quickly closed the book and blew out the candles, then stepped into the cold hallway and nearly ran into Draco.  
  
"I found it," he whispered quickly, then began to walk away.  
  
Draco grabbed his shoulder. "You found it?"  
  
"Yes. I know what has to be done," Harry replied. "Thanks." He smiled slightly, then turned and walked quickly down the hall.  
  
Draco smiled after him. "No problem at all, Potter."  
  
  
* * * *  
  
  
Snape stood in the deep shadows of the hall and watched as Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy exchanged a few words. Both boys left the hallway with smiles on their faces and Snape stepped out of the shadows, frowning deeply.  
  
"Malfoy," he murmured. "I should have guessed."  
  
Snape's eyes followed Harry's back as he disappeared down the hall and turned a corner. He shook his head and sighed.  
  
"Don't you know any better than to trust a Malfoy?" he asked to the empty hall.   
  
He would have to do something about the dark arts going on in the school, especially now that he knew where it was all coming from. Snape wasn't sure if he wanted to go straight to Dumbledore or try to clean it up himself without having the Headmaster find out. Harry was distraught over his friend's circumstances, that much was obvious. As much Snape loved to hate the boy, he wasn't going to get the student expelled right before his graduation for something that wasn't completely his fault.  
  
"Tomorrow," he whispered to himself. "I'll talk to them both tomorrow and they're going to have plenty to answer for."  
  
  
* * * * 


	8. Chapter Eight

* * * *   
  
Two nights later, Draco watched Harry walk down the hall with the book and the dagger hidden in his bag. He couldn't help but smile, knowing that the precious little Boy That Lived, would soon be so far gone that no one would be able to save him. He was sitting at the Slytherin table with Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him, ready to take off after anyone who might try to follow Harry. The last thing Draco needed was the preparation of the spell being interrupted. He was so busy watching Harry's friends, that he didn't notice the shadow of Professor Snape fall over the table.  
  
"Malfoy," Snape said softly. "I need to speak with you." He dark eyes glanced around the hall. "Where's Potter? I need to speak with him as well."  
  
Draco shrugged. "How should I know where Potter is, sir?"  
  
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Since you've been supplying him with dark arts books. I meant to speak to the two of you about this sooner but I've been . . . busy. Where is he?"  
  
Draco's face had paled at the mention of the books and he shrugged helplessly, refusing to say a word about the other student's whereabouts.  
  
"Draco, I want you to tell me where he is right now," Snape said, his words laced with unspoken threats. "If you don't tell me and he does something stupid your father and I will both hold you personally responsible." His black eyes narrowed. "We are not men you want on your bad side Draco, you know that."  
  
Draco shrugged again, then went back to the dinner on the plate in front of him.   
  
Snape's hand twisted in the back of Draco's robes and he yanked the student up from the table. Draco yelped in surprise and began to struggle against the confines of his robe.  
  
"What is he doing, Draco? Did he find something?"  
  
A quick smile stole across Draco's face and Snape twisted his robes tighter, cutting off his air supply. The student quickly gasped and grabbed at Snape's hands, trying to release himself from his tight fists.  
  
"Don't be stupid. Where is he?" he demanded.  
  
"He's been acting so different," a female voice said from nearby and Snape turned to see Hermione standing there. "What's he gotten into, professor?"  
  
He turned back to Draco, ignoring Hermione's questions. "Tell me where he is," Snape hissed, his face only inches from Draco's.  
  
The student's face had begun to turn red and he was grasping at his neck with his fingers, trying to tear away the material that was choking him. His fingernails slashed across Snape's knuckles, tearing skin away and tiny droplets of blood splashed to the floor.  
  
"Where is he?" Snape asked, his voice more menacing than ever.  
  
"Bathroom," Draco finally wheezed.  
  
Snape released his robes and turned toward the door of the Hall. Draco collapsed to the ground, gasping for air to fill his deprived lungs and clutching his bruised throat with one hand. Hermione watched him for a moment, hating him more than she had ever hated him in her entire seven years at Hogwarts. If he had done something to put Harry in danger, she'd kill him herself.  
  
With this thought ingrained deeply in her mind, Hermione turned on her heel and followed Snape out of the Hall. She wasn't sure what Draco had meant by 'bathroom', but Snape seemed to know exactly where he was going and she had to break into a jog to keep up with him.  
  
"Go back to the Hall, Hermione," he demanded as he ran, choking out her first name for the first time ever.   
  
"No," she panted, "he's my best friend."  
  
"Then you won't want to see what he might be doing," Snape answered, taking the stairs two at a time and arriving outside the bathroom door. "It will not be a pretty sight."  
  
"You know what he's doing?" she asked.  
  
Snape shook his head. "Not for certain, but I have a pretty good idea."  
  
"How could you possibly know?"  
  
The Potions Master stared down at her, his eyes dark and turbulent. He was scared, she could see that, but she could also see the answer. The books had all come from Lucius Malfoy's private library and who had been better friends with Lucius but Snape himself?  
  
"I want to see," she said softly.  
  
Snape nodded, then stepped forward and pressed his palm against the bathroom door.  
  
  
* * * *  
  
  
Harry stood amidst flaming candles that burned bright enough to make him squint against their light. The shadows were reduced to almost nothing, though they still reached for him with their claws, tiny, sharp claws that slithered toward his feet. The moon hung just outside the bathroom window, full and orange in the dark sky. In one hand he held the warm leather book and in the other he held an ornate dagger.   
  
A voice flooded his head and he immediately recognized it as the decorative serpent on the first book. "It's time," the voice whispered, rasping against his ear. "Start now, before they come to stop you."  
  
Harry nodded, then looked down at the book and read over the word quickly to make sure he knew what he would be saying. His fingers traced lightly over the lines, then went limp, dropping the book to floor with a loud thump.   
  
"Moerae," Harry intoned softly, the fingers of his right hand nervously flicking over the sharp blade. "Atropos, the inevitable, listen to my words. The parents of Hermione Granger are dead, but I want them returned. Take this soul, this blood in exchange for theirs. Take this life and return them to this existence, cut the thread I offer you and pray that Clotho weaves them more."  
  
The words said, he waited for a long minute, watching as the candles burned steadily and waiting for the flames to soften and finally go out. A candle to his left went out slowly and the others followed soon after, leaving the bathroom lit only by the muted streams of moonlight. Harry's breath went out of him with the candle light leaving his lungs dry and struggling to draw in air to sustain his heart long enough to perform the task ahead.  
  
The dagger trembled in his hand, catching the moonlight and casting silver glinting shadows over the floor. He suddenly wasn't as brave as he had been the past few weeks when searching for the spell, his fear came back full force, paralyzing every muscle in his body and his connection to the magic was broken, but only for a second.  
  
"Do it," the voice whispered. "They're here, they're trying to stop you. Do it!"  
  
A flood of energy poured through Harry's body and his arm rose, the dagger glistening in the moonlight.  
  
"Moerae!" he roared, suddenly full of a power he had never known was inside him. A power that had manifested itself from the dark magic that had begun to flow through his veins. His hand no longer shook, it was strong and sure of its path, his arm was aimed perfectly to pierce the heart of his sacrifice. The heart that would bring back Hermione's parents. The beating heart that lay within the chest of a handsome, seventh year student.  
  
His arm began to arc down, sliding effortlessly through the air toward its mark. His heart.  
  
The bathroom door was pushed open and the light from the hall blinded him for a moment, the dagger wavering in the air as it travelled toward his chest.   
  
"Harry, no!" someone shrieked and he felt a hand on his wrist, grasping the dagger by its blade and tearing it from his hand. Harry felt the contact with the dagger break and a moment later he was on the floor of the bathroom, breathing heavily with tears on his cheeks.  
  
"How could you do that?" the same voice shrieked and Harry looked up to see Hermione standing above him with the blade of the dagger still clenched in her hand. Blood dribbled down her fingers and pooled at her feet, staining the floor red and the sight of her blood made Harry's head spin.   
  
Snape stepped into the room and leaned forward, grabbing the dagger and plucking it from Hermione's hand. She didn't even seem to notice that he was there.  
  
"Are you stupid?" she screamed, her hand flying out and slapping the top of Harry's head. "Are you that goddamned stupid? Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you think that I wouldn't notice the change in you?" She took a step closer to him and slapped him again. "What are you trying to do to me? Don't you think I've dealt with enough lately?"  
  
"Hermione," Snape said warningly, but she ignored him.  
  
"I've lost my parents and now you're going to kill yourself?"  
  
"It was to bring your parents back," Harry said weakly.  
  
"It was black magic, Harry!" she screamed. "Did you think it would ever come through? Did you think that my parents would really come back to me?"  
  
Snape shook his head sadly. "It never would have worked, Potter."  
  
Harry stared at him. "But I was going to give my life."  
  
"You were going to kill yourself," Hermione snarled.  
  
"For you," he replied.  
  
"I don't need you to die!" she shouted, collapsing beside him on the floor. "Merlin's Beard, don't you understand, Harry? I need you, you're my best friend. I can't do this without you."  
  
Harry's eyes filled with tears again and his shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry."  
  
Hermione's arms went around his shoulders and she crushed her face into his neck. "Don't ever think that you're not enough. I lost my parents, Harry, but I can move on. I can't lose you too, not now. You're my support system. When everything else fails, I can always count on you to be there for me."  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered again.  
  
"You're the perfect protection when I'm in over my head," she murmured, hugging him tightly. "Don't do this, don't think you ever have to do this."  
  
"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, his arms finally going around her waist. "I'm so very sorry."  
  
Snape stood in the bathroom doorway and watched the friends cling to each other desperately, sitting on a crumpled heap on the floor. Blood, candles and the books of the dark arts surrounded them, but it didn't matter anymore. Harry was alive and Hermione had saved him. Snape smiled slightly, then turned and let the bathroom door fall closed. With friends like those, they would never have to worry about stumbling and having no one to pick them up.   
  
  
End  
  
  
Pulled in every direction, I've a million regrets  
But you're the perfect protection when I'm diving in over my head  
But in the middle of it all  
You always break my fall  
Over and over, again and again  
You float through the door and I'm stumbling in  
I'm twisted and tangled and soaked to the skin  
But you float through the door and I'm stumbling in again  
  
Notes: The lyrics belong to the fabulous band, Great Big Sea. Go to www.greatbigsea.com to hear the song if you want. Thanks to all my reviewers, I hope you enjoyed this. And, I thought I'd leave Draco's punishment up to your imagination. :) 


End file.
